


After the Fall

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV), Supernatural
Genre: After the Fall, Character Death, Christmas Time, Demons, Dorks, Drama, F/F, F/M, Feels, Gay Feels, M/M, Old Villians, Possesion, Reunion, Romance, Suspense, Team 221B Baker Street, Team Free Will, Team TARDIS, Torture, just feels, kidnap, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 17:53:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1787812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SuperWhoLock AU taking place after the Supernatural season 8 finale, Sherlock season 3 episdoe 1, and sometime after during Doctor Who season 2. After the Angels fall, Torchwood's Captain Jack Harkness gets the Doctor involved and Torchwood gets the British Government (Mycroft) to send out their best detective to figure out what's going on. The Winchester brothers will need all the help that they can get as Abaddon begins to get ingredients necessary for the spell that'll flush ALL the angels to Earth. This can be the beginning for a great many things. Sorry the summary is so bad, I do not own any of the characters in the characters tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Out

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been floating around in my head for a while, it was inspired by a bunch of posts I'd seen on Tumblr. I'll give credit to the posts that inspired specific scenes as I go along. Hope you like it!

                “Wha-what’s happening?” Sam managed to gasp out, despite the damage that the trials have wrecked upon him.

                Dean couldn’t take his eyes off the sky, off of the seemingly impossible sight before him. He should have known something had happened as soon as Cas hadn’t answered his desperate plea for help. “Angels,” Dean answered, eyes still watching what could’ve been mistaken as falling stars, “They’re falling.”

 

* * *

                The meteors fell everywhere. A routine shower, the superiors had said. Yet, as always, they dispatched agents to go check the landings out, just to be safe. It wasn’t until every single crater that the meteors had created came up empty that they began to worry that maybe what had begun falling from the sky an hour earlier hadn’t been a routine meteor shower after all.

                That’s when Torchwood set up the red alert and sent out every single agent on hand to every single meteor landing site. Rumor had it that it was a new alien species that had come to study the human race. It wasn’t the first time that Torchwood had had to tell spacial visitors that humanity still wasn’t ready to know about the life forms that reside amongst the stars. It was almost to the point where it had become a routine: every few years, a ship or two would arrive, bearing gifts (or sometimes massive weapons), expressing their desire to help nudge the human race along to greatness (or steal resources, enslave humanity), but it always ended with our brilliant Captain Jack Harkness having to tell them not yet, we’re not ready (or to leave, because the planet was defended by the Doctor, which usually sent brutal alien life forms scampering back to their home planets).

                However, what was different about this incident was that _every single crater_ was empty. Every single one. It was as if someone had been alerted about the situation and had been sent earlier to collect whatever had fallen.

                These circumstances are what now find Karen and Andrew scouting through Epping Forest at five in the damn morning towards the – object – that had fallen there only 20 minutes earlier. They had their stun guns out, cautious, given that they had no idea what they could be facing.

                As they reached the edge of the clearing in which the crater resided, they turned to each other, a bit apprehensive and, they had to admit it, _scared_ about what could be in the hole. They were just about to step out of the tree line when three people rushed into the clearing from the other side of the woods. Karen and Andrew were completely taken by surprise. They didn’t know exactly how to deal with civilians stumbling – or in this case running – upon an extraterrestrial arrival. Karen was about to reveal herself when Andrew put his arm out in front of her, sensing what she was about to do. He then put his fingers to his lips in a signal for silence, before pointing at the newcomers.

                Once they began to focus on the trio they saw that it consisted of two guys and one girl that were no older than 25. “That bloke could’ve given us an earlier heads up, that way we’d actually be ready,” the girl said, before yawning.

                “Oh, you’re just upset because you weren’t able to kill those vamps,” the younger boy smirked before receiving a smack between the shoulder blades from the girl.

                “Oi! Cut it out you two,” the oldest of the three said, stepping between them.

                “Calm down, Jim. Rob and I are just joking around,” the girl playfully shoved the guy that Andrew and Karen assumed to be Jim. “It’s just that – angels! I’d heard they’d been around recently, especially around those American brothers, and here we are! Collecting them after they crashed and burned,” she made a downward spiral motion with her hand.

                 As they got closer to the edge of the crater, the boys took out guns and held them out in front of them and the girl took out a deadly-looking silver blade and held it out in a defensive position. The girl then got onto her knees before saying in a whisper (which unfortunately for them carried her voice to where Andrew and Karen were hiding) “He’s still here.” She then looked back down again, “He’s unconscious.” There was silence as the three observed what was in the hole. “Hello? Rob, Jim? We’ve got to get him out of here. Today.”

                The guys snapped back to reality and quickly leapt down into the hole and between the both of them hoisted the body of a third individual out. He fell limp on the ground, before stirring a bit and groaning. Andrew took an involuntary step back when he saw him. He looked…human. From where the Torchwood duo could see, he had honey colored hair, dark jeans, a button up shirt, a dark green jacket, and brown shoes. He looked _average_. And not at all menacing, what with all the pained groans he was uttering. The guys had been in the process of climbing out of the crater when the girl stopped them.

                “What is it, Kim?” Rob asked.

                “Shh,” she hissed, “I think I saw something.” Her eyes lingered over the patch of woods where Andrew and Karen were concealed before shrugging off her suspicions. “Let’s just hurry up. We have to get him out before anyone finds him.”

                The trio was about to leave when Karen nudged Andrew and nodded towards the group. Andrew gave her a curt nod before hiding his stun gun in his coat. Karen quickly followed suit. They then both walked out into the light.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Andrew called out, startling the three.

                Karen was right at Andrew’s heels, “You lot are going to have to come with us back to headquarters and explain what’s going on here.” She then began spouting out about a million things a second, “Who isn’t supposed to find him? Who is he?” She knew she was firing a question every 3.5 seconds but she was practically bursting with them. “Vamps? Angels? Is that code for something?” Karen then finally asked the question that Andrew was itching to ask, “Who are you?”

                Kim, Rob, and Jim just exchanged a glance, only a glance, but then they immediately attacked. Kim threw her knife with uncanny accuracy at Andrew’s leg, but years of training at Torchwood had him prepared. He jumped back, before he grabbed Karen’s arm and they both ran to take cover in the trees. Rob and Jim then opened fire with their guns, shooting out in their general direction. Karen didn’t know why Andrew had had them put their stun guns away when dealing with such a violent crowd, but when she looked over at Andrew who was crouched behind a fallen tree trunk she saw him saying something to himself. She had grown experienced at reading lips, especially those of her partners, so it was easy for her to see what he was saying. However it puzzled her, because he was… _counting?_ It wasn’t until he got to twelve that she realized what he’d been counting. He’d been counting the bullets that the guys were firing, knowing that since they were only carrying small handguns, they all only held six bullets each. She also then understood why Andrew had made them hide their stun guns: so that the armed trio would think they were weaponless, and therefore not much of a threat. That explained why Kim hadn’t thrown the knife to kill, given that she could have easily impaled it in Andrew’s skull or chest, and also why the boys were firing at everything except at them, because they were only trying to scare them away.

                It took Karen mere seconds to piece all of this together and when she returned from her train of thought she saw that Andrew had already taken out his stun gun and was waiting for her to do the same. She took hers out and they both ran out into the clearing. Kim, Rob, and Jim were caught off guard, having thought that they had scared Andrew and Karen away for sure. It was a good thing that they were surprised too, because that made it all the easier for Karen and Andrew to easily knock them unconscious.

                Karen then took out her walkie-talkie, “Yes? Headquarters? We’ve got a live one here. I repeat, we’ve got a live one. Please bring back up to the crash site in Epping Forest. Over.”

* * *

 

               “It’s been a month and two weeks since we brought these four in and none of them are talking!” Torchwood’s commanding officer Eve fumed. “The girl and the younger boy refuse to speak unless they get to be reunited with each other and the older one has only asked for the paper a few times.”

                “What about the new arrival?” her secretary, Gareth, asked.

                “Don’t even get me started on him. There’s hardly anything menacing about him, or particularly special come to think of it, unless you think that being able to survive off of sugar for a month and a half is anything remarkable,” Eve sighed into her hands.

                “How so?”

                Eve threw her hands into the air, “He refuses to eat the food we provide him and when asked what it is that he does want all he asks for is candy! He’s even asked to have a constant supply of cherry lollipops available for him should he ever crave one!”

                Gareth walked up behind her and began to massage her shoulders, causing a slight satisfied sigh to escape from her lips. “Madam, you mustn’t stress yourself so much. You know, there is chatter that this can all be fixed if you would just bring up that agent from Cardiff…”

                 Eve stood up so abruptly that Gareth almost toppled over, “We are not bringing in Captain Jack Harkness!”

                “But ma’am, he might be able to make them talk,” Gareth reasoned. “And you must admit it ma’am, he is pretty charming,” Gareth gushed, eyes glazing over a bit at the thought of the Captain.

                “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going all gaga over him like everyone else!” Eve exclaimed before sitting down once more and putting her head in her hands again. She had thought about how to get them to talk and it always came back to that damn Captain. She knew she had no other choice. She looked up at Gareth who had gone back to arranging his files on his desk. “Fine, call the Cardiff branch and tell them that I want him in London tomorrow at the break of dawn. And I don’t care that it’ll be Saturday.” Then she stormed out of her office after having seen the smug look that Gareth gave her as he made the call.

* * *

 

                “So, a month and a half, and still no answers?” Jack asked as he was being briefed early Saturday morning after having received a call from Torchwood’s commanding officer, Eve, the day before.

                “’Fraid so,” Gareth replied, walking him down a flight of stairs to the floor where the four detainees were being held - in separate rooms but on the same floor nonetheless. “Take your pick from who you want to question first: Jim, the oldest of the siblings and the calmest of the three, Rob, the younger brother whom is known for mocking officers until they feel like shooting the kid, Kim, the sister who hasn’t spoken but to request seeing her brothers, or the guy who was found.”

                Captain Jack Harkness took a few seconds to decide on who he was going to question before finally deciding, “I’ll go and ask the older one and see if I can seduce him into giving me any answers,” he finished with a wink.

                Gareth managed to keep his blush under control while he pointed to the door furthest down the hall. He’d known that the Captain was a massive flirt and the fact had been confirmed when he’d asked him if he wanted to go out for a drink after he’d finished with the interrogations, but he still couldn’t stop the flaring blush from crawling up his face – and it seemed to be a mutual feeling with the rest of his colleagues. Jim wouldn’t stand a chance.

                Jack walked slowly, leisurely, towards that last door. He opened the door and slipped inside quietly before turning to examine the man he was there to question. “Hello, handsome,” Jack drawled.

                The man, Jim, looked up lazily from his newspaper before flicking his eyes back to the paper on his desk and asking quietly, “What do you want?”

                “Well I, and the superiors behind the one way glass,” Jack waved happily at the window that could’ve been mistaken for a mirror had it been anywhere else, “just want to know a few things.”

                Jim pushed the newspaper away from him tiredly and clasped his hands on the table in front of him, giving Jack his full attention before saying, “Ask away.”

                Jack could just imagine everyone on the outside getting ready with their pens and recorders to get down every word that Jim would say. So Jack asked the first question Eve supplied him with through his earpiece, “Who are you?”

                “Have you read the newspaper recently?” Jim asked, reaching for the paper he’d discarded seconds ago.  Jack shook his head, raising an eyebrow in a questioning manner but allowing Jim to proceed without interruption despite the angry hisses coming from the earpiece as his superiors yelled at him for not steering back to his question and demanding an answer. Jack knew that this was what the rest of them had done, and it had obviously gotten them nowhere, so he even went to the lengths of yanking out his earpiece and taking a seat across from Jim in order to get some answers his way.

                 There was a loud muffled crash from behind the one way glass and they both turned in time to catch the glass itself shudder as if someone were banging on it from the other side, which was probably what was going on. Jack fully expected armed guards to come crashing in and drag him out for so directly disobeying orders but no one came, so he motioned for Jim to continue.

                  Jim picked up the paper and read, “ _Man Found: Heartless and Dead_ ”, he slid the paper over to Jack. Jack quickly skimmed through the article and remembered vaguely about having heard about these dead bodies having been found without their hearts – there’d been many cases recently, but Torchwood pinned it on some sort of crazed serial killer. Jim continued on after seeing that Jack had once again turned his attention to him, “Four cases in the past month, about one a week. Very fast, even by serial killer standards.” It was as if he’d been following Jack’s train of thought.

                  “So, it’s not some killer?” Jack asked aloud, knowing he’d have to ask in order to get an answer.

                  Jim laughed humorlessly, “No, mate, no killer. Wish it was though, that way I wouldn’t be in this line of business.”

                 “Which is?”

                 He ignored Jack’s question and kept going with what seemed to be a rehearsed explanation, “What you’ve got on your hands here is a werewolf.”

                 The temperature of the room seemed to have plunged about 10 degrees. This guy seemed to be telling the truth, which made the news he delivered seem so sinister. But it made no sense. Things that actually go bump in the night. No, no, because that would mean that now, they not only had to worry about the darkness that was space, they had to worry about the darkness of their own backyards. Jack felt like he couldn’t think straight and choked out, “I beg your pardon?”

                  Jim sighed, “Look, it’s a very long story, but you seem to be a much more reasonable guy than the others and, even though I know they’re listening, I feel like you would finally get us out of here after I’ve told you what’s really out there and what we do and why we were at that landing site the day we were caught. That’s why I’m deciding to talk now.”

                  Jack had to get his emotions under control, and with great difficulty got his confident grin back in place. “Well, let it all out Jim, buddy. I’m all ears.”

                 “You won’t want to be my buddy after I’m done with this story,” Jim sighed. “Sorry about popping your safe little bubble, because once you know, there’s no going back.”

* * *

 

                About four or so hours later, Jack stumbled out of Jim’s room, his head swimming. _Vampires, Werewolves, Shifters, Rougarous, Ghouls, Demons, Spirits, and Angels: all of them real._ It seemed impossible, like something no normal person would ever be able to conceive, but Jack was no normal person. He’d traveled with the Doctor, died, been brought back to life only to find out he was immortal, and now worked as a professional alien diplomat, discussing what should and shouldn’t happen with humanity and it’s alien allies. But now, this bomb was dropped on his already precarious sense of reality and everything went to Hell – which apparently is a real place which spews demons out who torment humanity. However, these…Hunters, as Jim had called himself, his siblings, and all of the others who were in his same line of business, hunted these things for a living. It was dangerous, risky business with no chance of ever getting out unless you died – and even then some couldn’t find escape.

                The Winchester brothers, who Jim had mentioned a couple of times, had apparently died and come back on multiple occasions, every time with a bigger problem to face. The craters, the things that had fallen out of the sky, those were their latest issue. Many Hunters had been alerted about the situation and asked if they could go collect the fallen and teach them the ropes. _Angels…_ Jack thought but quickly shook the thought away, still finding it utterly insane. He snorted a derisive laugh, knowing he really shouldn’t be surprised by the utterly insane anymore.

                “Jack Harkness,” someone barked from behind him.

                He turned slowly, regaining his usual joking and playful air, “I think there should be a ‘Captain’ somewhere in there.”

                Eve looked livid; she couldn’t even talk from how furious she was. It was Gareth who, scurrying after her, trying to keep multiple notes in order, finally spoke for her, “She lost it when you took out your earpiece. It took me and two other officers to keep her from breaking through the glass and stabbing you.” He straightened the papers one last time, tried smoothing down his ruffled hair, then glanced at Eve who was still red-faced, before continuing, “She’s also kind-a, really pissed that your method worked.”

                “You disobeyed direct orders, you went against protocol, oh, I should fire you right now,” Eve muttered darkly, hands twitching at her sides as if she were just itching to strangle him.

                 Jack was about to tell her that thanks to him they’d finally gotten somewhere, but Gareth beat him to it, “Ma’am, you’re just a bit…angry,” massive understatement, “that Captain Harkness’ methods worked whilst ours failed.” Gareth desperately tried to keep the blush that was creeping onto his face under control after he noticed that Jack had winked when he’d called him “Captain”. Oh boy, Jack Harkness was proving to be a bigger flirt than he realized, but he couldn’t let Jack get to him or else he’d fail at trying to placate Eve and she would get to Jack, and she wouldn’t hesitate to add a few extra holes in him. “Ma’am, you’ll see that what he did was the right choice eventually,” he was grasping straws, trying hopelessly to come across something that would divert Eve’s attention away from Jack. “Weren’t you about to make an important call to the British Government?”

                That caught her attention. She stood up straighter and brushed her clothes, eliminating nonexistent wrinkles. “Get my phone ready,” she said to Gareth, who quickly fished out a cell phone from the bag that hung off his shoulder. She then turned to Jack, eyes ice cold and still enraged, “And you, report back to the Cardiff branch, you’ve fulfilled your job.”

                She turned sharply and began to walk away down the hall. “Wait,” Jack called out, “I can still help, you can’t just send me away!”

                Eve stopped in her tracks and didn’t even turn fully around. She just turned enough for Jack to see the side of her face as she said, “You’re dismissed.”

                Jack wanted to protest, could feel the words starting to form on his lips, but Gareth made a desperate hand motion and mouthed the words, “I’ll tell you later.” Jack nodded before going back the way he came, silent and tightlipped.

                Eve had already started walking briskly to the other set of stairs on the opposite end of the hall when Gareth began to scramble after her, cell phone still in his hand. “Who do you want me to call from the British Government?” He asked, ready to dial as soon as he got a name.

                She smiled slightly, a facial expression that looked more like a grimace for some reason. “Not ‘who do you want me to call’, Gareth. More like call the British Government.” Gareth stared at her blankly, confused. She knew she had no other option since they were dealing with something so large. “Call Mycroft Holmes.”

* * *

 

                It was late afternoon when the door to his room opened. He had his feet propped up on the table and was leisurely sucking on his cherry lollipop, the fifth one he’d had that day. A jar of the sweets sat right next to his feet, within arm’s reach. A tall, lanky, curly haired man stepped into the room. He seemed a bit…frazzled, yeah, that was the word that he would use to describe the new comer. He hadn’t seen him before, even though he thought that probably all of Torchwood had come to interrogate him by now.

                “Hello,” the man said.

                “Hiya,” he replied, licking his lollipop.

                “May I sit?” the man asked. He seemed slightly out of place, which apparently wasn’t something he was used to feeling since he quickly arranged his features into a scowl. With another lick to his lollipop, he nodded that he could. The man sat down and ruffled his unruly dark curls before glancing back at the man that he was supposed to be interrogating. “I hear you haven’t told anyone your name.”

                “Got that right,” the blonde responded with a mouthful of lollipop.

                “Well…angel…I hope you wouldn’t mind telling me your name,” the man across from him said.

                 He took out the lollipop from his mouth in order to keep from choking as he laughed, “Woah there, didn’t know we were at pet names already. And I’m sorry to inform you, buddy, but I don’t swing that way.”

                 He thought the comment wouldn’t bother the other man and that he’d only brush it aside, but instead he got bright pink before saying, “No, that’s not what I –“ he stopped himself before going straight to the point, “I know what you are. You’re an angel. Might as well tell me your name.”

                 “So the other ones told you, did they? Glad someone finally knows what I am.” He licked his lollipop. “Name’s Gabriel.”

                 “Sherlock Holmes,” the man said, extending his hand.

                Gabriel looked quizzically at the hand in front of him, looking between it and its owner before finally shaking it. “So, what questions do you want answered?”

                Sherlock steepled his fingers in front of him, elbows on the table. It seemed as if he were examining Gabriel, which was probably what he was doing: unraveling Gabriel and everything that made him Gabriel, reading in between the lines, seeing his whole history and all the devastation and tragedy that had occurred throughout its entirety. His cold, calculating look made Gabriel feel uncomfortable. “I don’t have any questions for you, Gabriel. One of the Archangels, I presume?” Gabriel nodded, and Sherlock continued, “But I do have a proposition for you.”

               “Go on,” Gabriel said, putting his feet down and sitting forward.

               “I’m assuming you know the Winchesters.” It wasn’t a question.

               Despite not wanting to, Gabriel smiled, “Oh those idiots, ‘course I know ‘em. Sasquatch and short stuff.” He was quiet for a moment, just remembering those two dorks, then realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned that he knew them, Gabriel asked, “Why?”

               Sherlock obviously noticed this because he immediately put his worries to rest, “It isn’t anything bad, we just need to discuss this whole…angel situation in greater detail, and I’ve been told that they are the ones to go to.” He stood up and put on the coat he’d been holding, “I was hoping you’d act as my guide, and take me to them.”

               Gabriel got up, “Yeah, you just want me to lead all of Torchwood to capture them and learn everything they can, don’t you.”

               “I don’t work for Torchwood,” Sherlock said, lifting up his coat collar, making him seem extra mysterious, especially with those sharp cheekbones he had. Man, people could probably cut themselves slapping that face. “I’m a consulting detective, only one in the world,” _I don’t doubt it,_ Gabe mentally added before Sherlock went on with what he’d been saying, “Until just this morning I didn’t even know Torchwood existed, but when these people,” he gestured around him, “finally found out about the existence of the… _supernatural_ …they knew they couldn’t just keep it to themselves, so they informed the British Government, in other words my brother. He then asked if I would investigate what was going on and solve the case. I only promised him I’d come to the briefing, but this is a delectable puzzle that I’m not going to let get away from me, so I’m seeing this through to the end, even if it does take me far from home,” there was a small catch in his voice as he said the last part, something that not many people would have noticed. However, Gabriel was an angel and was capable of sensing certain emotions. The emotion that had come with the catch in his voice came from… _longing_? For what or for whom, Gabriel didn’t know, and he didn’t have very long to ponder on the feeling because then Sherlock asked, “So, are you coming with me?”

             Gabriel still wasn’t all that trusting, “But, besides finding out what’s going on, what else are you going to do?”

              Sherlock shrugged, “Haven’t the faintest. I might help them fix whatever’s gone wrong up in Heaven, but first I need to know if you’re coming.”

             “I’ll come,” Gabriel said, already feeling giddy with suppressed excitement at the prospect of seeing his two favorite humans again. He hadn’t seen them since he’d “died” back when they were fighting Lucifer and had grown lonely without them, though he’d never admit that out loud.

             “We leave tomorrow at noon,” Sherlock informed him, tying his scarf at his neck, “I’ll get my brother, Mycroft, to arrange for your dismissal from this place. You’re to meet me at my flat at 10 am tomorrow.” He walked to the door, opened it, tossed over his shoulder, “The address is 221B Baker Street,” and swept out of the room.

* * *

 

              Jack took off his headphones, setting them on the dashboard of Gareth’s car. “So, they’re going off to find the Winchesters?”

              Gareth nodded, looking up at the giant Torchwood building, knowing that somewhere inside the mighty consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes, was getting everything ready for Gabriel’s dismissal tomorrow. He knew that tapping into the surveillance footage of the interrogation was some seriously risky business, but he just had to let Jack Harkness know exactly what was going on. He nervously looked out the window, fully expecting to see Eve stomping up to his car and having him arrested for helping Jack. He took a shaky breath and, without looking over, asked, “Are you going to tell the Doctor?”

               “Why else would I have asked you to get me this information?” Jack smiled. Gareth looked over and shyly smiled back. Jack put his hands behind his head, relaxing and relishing at having the necessary information to give to the Doctor. “I just needed to know exactly who we were dealing with and how Torchwood was going to get involved, but…”

                “Torchwood’s not in this anymore,” Gareth supplied.

                “No, they aren’t,” Jack was full on grinning now, “so I don’t have to worry so much about getting caught. Now all I’ve got to do is talk to the Doctor,” he began to climb out of Gareth’s Volkswagen. He was just about to shut the door when he peeked in and asked, “How about I take you out for a drink sometime after this? As a thanks?”

                Gareth couldn’t believe what he was seeing, did the Captain Jack Harkness look… _flustered_? He couldn’t dwell too much on the subject however because he needed to answer him, “Sure, I’d really like that. Sounds like fun.” Jack gave him one more heart-stopping grin before he shut the door and sauntered away.   


	2. Meeting Some Allies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock goes away with Gabriel, leaving John worried but with the promise to constantly call and text him. They meet up with the Winchesters, who, even though they were apprehensive to trust at first, open up the doors to the bunker to them. Jack gets a hold of the Doctor after multiple tries, but the Doctor and Rose have found something that they should probably bring along.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is basically when people start meeting people you know. It's still a little slow, and I'm really, really sorry if it's a bit OOC. I'm trying my best to really pick up the pace and get this show on the road! Hope you like it!

“What do you mean you have to go?” John asked the next morning, watching Sherlock pack his bag.

                Sherlock threw in a couple more shirts into the suitcase before shutting it and tightening the clasp. He straightened up and looked at John with a critical eye. He could see that John was upset, though he was trying his best to hide it: slight tremble in his voice, moist eyes, small, intermittent tremors racking his body. Sherlock sighed, going to stand right in front of his best friend to make sure he was looking him in the eye. “John Hamish Watson,” John started a bit at having heard his entire name, but Sherlock carried on, “I know I’ve only been back from the dead for two weeks and two days, and I’m already off on a case.” He straightened his cuff links and continued on in a serious manner, “I know you’re afraid of losing sight of me, as it may result in my death, again-“

                “I’m not scared!” John huffed.

                Sherlock had to suppress the urge to point out every single thing that proved to him that John was afraid, but decided against it and continued with what he’d been saying, “but, John, it’ll be quick, I’ll only be gone for two weeks. I wish I could bring you along, I’d already discussed bringing you along-“

                “But, Mycroft won’t let me come.” John muttered darkly.

                “Yes,” Sherlock agreed, “Mycroft won’t let me take you with me.” _And this seems too dangerous, I don’t want you to get hurt,_ Sherlock thought. He sighed and closed his eyes, afraid that if he saw how upset and hurt John felt he’d pull him into a hug. He’d expected a hug from the doctor when he’d revealed to him that he was actually alive, but had instead received a beating and the awful news that he was to be engaged with the woman he was dating, Mary. However, Mary left John about a week ago, and John had moved back into the flat. Sherlock had felt them both falling into their old routine again, making him believe everything was going to be alright. They’d even gone out to solve a few cases with Scotland Yard, too. Yet, seeing how visibly upset John was at the prospect of Sherlock leaving for a few days proved that things weren’t okay, that having believed that Sherlock had died had broken his friend. Now that they were living together, it seemed to be helping heal John slowly, but knowing that Sherlock was going away – to another continent, no less – left John scared witless, especially when thinking that during this trip away Sherlock could get himself killed, for real this time, and John wouldn’t be there to help him. Again. John didn’t want to have to deal with that once more, he just couldn’t. Sherlock saw all these thoughts written across John’s face and had to use great self-restraint to stop from gently brushing his fingers against John’s cheek and telling him everything would be okay. He mentally berated himself. He was supposed to be unfeeling, emotionless, unattached - a machine. He didn’t want to have to ever deal with human emotions, much less now.  However, with John it was different. It wasn’t weak to show emotions around him, it wasn’t stupid or gushy or whatever. It was nice, pleasant, and fantastic – the way it should be to experience human emotion.

                He cleared his throat and allowed himself to place a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. John looked up, expression so trusting yet hardened due to so many years of hardships; years of hardships that Sherlock managed to help increase in number. Sherlock leaned down slightly, making sure that he was at eye level with the shorter man, and he could almost swear he felt John stiffen expectantly underneath his hand and begin to slightly blush, but Sherlock knew it was most likely his hopeful mind seeing things that weren’t really there. “John,” Sherlock whispered, “it’s a short case in America. Nothing too dangerous,“ he could feel a stake being stabbed into his heart at the fact that he had to _lie_ to his best friend, to his doctor, in order to keep him safe. He could almost feel the last few chapters of their lives beginning to repeat themselves, but he knew that that wouldn’t happen. He wouldn’t allow it. He’d come back to John. He’d always make sure he came back. He went back to what he’d been saying, noticing how his gaze had flickered down to John’s lips for longer than he cared to admit, “I’ll be back, John. I _will_ come back.” He pulled away from John and began to put on his coat, “And by the time I return I think I can expect to see the flat having been redecorated for Christmas?”

                John wiped a hand across his face to eliminate the tears that had been threatening to fall. “Of course, especially with Mrs. Hudson being the land lady and all, this flat will be a Christmas wonderland!” John laughed.

                “As long as we don’t host another Christmas party, I don’t care,” Sherlock replied, putting on his scarf.

                “Sherlock Holmes!” John reprimanded in what was apparently supposed to be a serious tone. “We will host a Christmas party for our friends, we will have fun, and you will like it.”

                “John, I literally cannot take you seriously when I know that you’re going to be wearing that horrendous Christmas jumper,” Sherlock smirked.

                John feigned offense, “Now you’ve crossed the line!” He took the tea he’d brought in for Sherlock and marched into the kitchen, with a curious Sherlock following suit. He took Sherlock’s mug and upended it in the sink.

                “Sounds more like the start of the American Revolution to me,” Sherlock laughed. “Look who’s in the American mood, throwing away perfectly good tea and all,” Sherlock added with a wrinkled nose and a tone most people would use with a child.

                John crossed his arms across his chest and glared at Sherlock, with Sherlock mimicking him. Then they both burst into laughter, the tension from earlier completely disappearing. When they both stopped, they knew that everything would eventually go back to the way it was. It was only a matter of time. Sherlock was about to say something deep and moving to show to his friend how much he cared about him but right at that moment there was a knock at the door before it opened up.

                “Good morning boys, I hope I didn’t interrupt anything too intimate,” Mrs. Hudson said, bustling into the room with a tray of cookies, four cups of freshly brewed tea, and a disheveled looking Archangel. “This young man had come in here looking for you, Sherlock. I hope you haven’t done anything illegal.”

                Gabriel looked as if he were going to say something but Sherlock cut him off, “John, Mrs. Hudson, this is my newest client. He needs help locating some old friends.”

                He turned steely eyes onto Gabriel, challenging him to say he was lying, but Gabriel caught on fairly quickly and grinned, “First of all, pleasure to meet you. And yeah, haven’t seen my friends for a few years now. So, I decided to give this guy a chance,” he nodded to Sherlock, “hear he’s the best.”

                 “And the most arrogant,” John mumbled, taking a bite of biscuit.

                Gabriel noticed that Sherlock shot him a look that said _Thanks_. He could also sense that he didn’t want this…John to find out the potential danger they were going to be facing once they found the Winchesters. They all sat down around the kitchen table, which was cluttered with experiments, to eat what Mrs. Hudson had brought, and to hear Gabriel explain what Sherlock and he would be doing in America. He sensed that he had to keep the whole “looking for old friends” story going, and make it seem as safe as possible to John. After about an hour, there was a honk from outside.

                “Seems like our cab has arrived,” Sherlock said, in a wilted tone. He stood up and allowed Gabriel to go out the door first after having said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and to John. Mrs. Hudson followed the Archangel downstairs, leaving only Sherlock and John in the flat.

                An awkward silence settled around them once more. Sherlock and John both didn’t know what to say to each other, one to make the other feel secure and safe, the other to show that he wasn’t scared. In the end it was John who spoke first.

                He reached out and adjusted Sherlock’s lopsided scarf, “Take care out there. Don’t do anything stupid, idiot.”

                Sherlock smiled and put a hand over John’s hand which was still messing with his scarf, “I promise.” He gave it a little squeeze, “I’ll text you every day, that way you won’t worry. I may even throw in a call. Okay?”

                John nodded, “Okay.”

                Letting go of John’s hand, he made his way downstairs with his suitcase, feeling that with each step he was getting farther and farther away from the person he cared about the most. He joined up with Gabriel in the cab and they both rode off to the airport, to catch their flight to New York City. John watched from the window of their flat until the cab turned a corner and was out of sight, feeling as if Sherlock not only took some clothes for the trip to America, but also his heart.

* * *

 

                 Jack tried the phone unsuccessfully again for the second night in a row. “Dammit Rose! Pick up, pick up, pick up!” he mumbled under his breath. He was sitting in the sleazy motel room he’d rented for what he’d originally thought would’ve only been a night but had now turned into two, trying and trying to get a hold of the Doctor and Rose. Then he got through to her voicemail. Again.

                 “ _Hello? I’ll get back to you as soon as I can, so don’t worry if I don’t answer the first few times! –“_

                 A male voice interrupted her, _“Rose Tyler, my you are going to love the view here!”_

                Giggling, Rose finished off, “ _As you can see, I’m a little busy! Get back to you soon! Bye!”_

                Jack hung up the phone in frustration. He’d left a message the first three times that the he hadn’t received an answer, but he was just too tired to do it again. He set the phone down on the nightstand and flopped down on the bed, still in his day clothes. “They better call me back soon,” he grumbled under his breath, trying to suppress a yawn. He then allowed himself to succumb to the human need for sleep.

* * *

 

                 Gabriel cracked his eyes open when he began to feel the sunlight filter through the blinds of the hotel room he was in. He sat up and rubbed his eyes blearily, feeling disoriented for a moment. Stumbling out of bed and into the kitchen, he finally spotted a familiar face. It was Sherlock, looking out through the window and talking on his cell phone.

                “…of course, I’ll take good care of myself. And I’m awfully sorry to have interrupted you at the clinic, I momentarily forgot about the time change…Yes, I apologized, don’t make me do it again…No, I did not delete time zones, John…Well, I’ll leave you to go back to work…Good bye, John. Take care.” He hung up the phone and kept staring out the window, oozing concentration.

                Thinking Sherlock hadn’t heard him get up, he slowly made his way to the fridge before he was stopped in his tracks by Sherlock’s voice, “If you’re going to eat, make sure you don’t spill anything on my paperwork.” Sherlock turned around and vaguely gestured at the small kitchen table which was cluttered with books and papers. “I assume you slept well,” Sherlock stated, looking back to the window.

                “Yeah, I actually did. I’d had to sleep in that cold little room since I fell,” Gabriel answered, opening up the fridge and glancing inside. Chinese food from yesterday night’s meal. Juice. Some sort of pastry food. Gabriel sighed and peeked his head out from around the door, “You couldn’t’ve gotten any milk?” Sherlock smiled slightly but didn’t answer. Gabriel grabbed a box of Chinese food and put it in the microwave. He punched in two minutes and then drifted over to the kitchen table, examining the books and papers that were scattered on it. He picked up a particular book, the cover littered in Enochian runes. Flipping it over, so he could read the spine, he found the gold letters, “ _The Holy Bible_ ,” he murmured. He looked up at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow as the microwave went off and said, “I see you’ve done your research.”

                “Of course,” Sherlock agreed, strolling over to the table and picking up another book, “I have to know exactly what I’m getting into before I jump headfirst into a case.” He set the book out and began to lay out his papers in an orderly fashion, scribbling small notes in the margins. Feeling Gabriel’s eyes on him, he glanced up with an explanation, “This is something different. Something I’ve never seen before. I’m trying to find out everything I can, in as little time as possible,” he bit his lip, undecided it seemed for a second, before he looked up at Gabe and asked, “Could you maybe give me a crash course in all of this _supernatural_ business?”

                Gabriel grinned and pulled up a chair at the table, “Sure, dude. I’ll tell you anything you might need.”

                Sherlock glanced down at his papers and books, then back at Gabriel before inquiring, “What’s the soonest you could get me the most caught up with knowledge that rivals even that of professional ‘hunters’?” He air quoted the word.

                “Hmm…”Gabriel mumbled, tapping at his chin. There were so many facts, so many stories, so much lore from _all around the world_ he’d have to teach this guy. He turned back to Sherlock and saw the determined expression on his face, knowing that he would excel in this and be fine with such an information overload. “I could maybe have you mostly caught up by…Saturday? At my quickest…yeah, probably Saturday.” He thought for a bit more before asking, “How much do you value sleep?”

* * *

 

                There was a loud knock on the front door, echoing off in the mostly empty bunker. Dean glanced up from the burger he was about to begin eating and immediately reached for his trusty shotgun which had been propped up on the chair beside him. Sam ran around the corner, book still in hand, with a confused expression. Dean gestured to the front door and began to get up, signaling for Sam to follow.

                “I thought this was the most secure place on the planet. Not exactly some place where we’d expect house guests,” Sam whispered, taking his own gun off of the giant map/table in the study and following Dean silently through the bunker.

                “Maybe it’s Cas,” Dean chirped before he scolded himself for sounding so hopeful and happy with that prospect.

                Sam noticed and smirked at him before his face grew dark, “I don’t think it’s Cas…you said the last time he called you was on the road when we were coming back to the bunker, right?”

                Dean nodded, looking troubled. Sam put it down to them not having heard from Cas again, but Dean was upset with having had lied to Sam about where he’d received Cas’ call: he’d been at the hospital where Ezekiel had possessed Sam in order to heal him. He brushed the memory away and continued on towards the bunker door, where another round of increasingly impatient knocks sounded.

                At this, Kevin appeared from the kitchen, looking nervous. “Uh, dudes? Are we supposed to be waiting for company?”

                Shooting him a frustrated look, Dean responded, “No, man. Did you invite anyone?”

                Kevin put his hands up, “Heck no. You guys would kill me if I ever did that.” He then turned terrified eyes to the door, “Do you think it could be demons?”

                “No, this place is warded backwards and forwards,” Sam said confidently. “How would they even find this place anyway?”

                “Oh, I don’t know,” Kevin mumbled returning to the kitchen to hide, “maybe the King of Hell gave them a freaking heads up!”

                Sam and Dean shot each other a worried look before finally reaching the door. Dean aimed his shotgun at the space where he expected their “visitor’s” head would be at, and then motioned for Sam to open the door. Sam quickly pulled it open and stepped back, getting his own gun aimed.

                “Woah there, fellas!” the man on the other side of the door chuckled. He had dirty blonde hair, a charming and gigantic grin, and a mischievous twinkle in his golden eyes. “Sasquatch! Princess!” He smiled even wider, “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me!”

                “What the hell-“

                “Oh my God-“

                They were shocked. They slowly began to lower their weapons before turning to look towards each other for guidance as to what to do next. However, they had no sort of protocol for what to do when an old, supposedly _dead,_ friend just popped by (even though it happened more often than they’d admit). They just stared at the angel, not daring to believe what was so obviously in front of them. There was an ear shattering silence as the boys tried to process what their eyes were seeing and as the angel silently urged them to believe.

                “Gabriel?” Sam choked out after what seemed like centuries.

                Gabriel’s smile softened, “Yeah, it’s me buddy.”

                Sam seemed to want to step out towards him but Dean threw his arm out to stop him in his tracks. He aimed his weapon at Gabriel again. “Gabriel’s dead. We know he got killed. Whoever you are, you probably aren’t friendly, and you definitely aren’t him,” Dean said gruffly.

                Miserably seeing his brother’s point, Sam retook his aim. Gabriel sighed and held out his hands in a surrendering motion, “Look guys, I really am Gabriel.” He was desperately hoping they would believe him, so he began to spew everything he knew they needed to hear, “I know you guys don’t believe me since you think that Luci killed me, but I got out. I escaped. I mean, I’ve done it before,” he cast a small glance at Dean then, “I knew I couldn’t kill my brother, he was too powerful, but I could deceive him and help you guys out…at least a little bit.” Whilst he had been talking his eyes had cast down to his shoes, feeling the weird emotion of shame blossom in his chest at having admitted that he’d seen them throughout the whole entire time that they had suffered and had not been able to actually _see_ them.

                Dean was still skeptical and shifted his gun to the other hand, “Then why didn’t you come tell us? Why didn’t you help us?”

                “I did help you guys!” Gabriel snapped, looking up and facing Dean, all 5’ 8” feet of fury. Dean took an involuntary step back. “Didn’t you hear anything I just said? I _helped_ you guys! In small ways, of course, so that I didn’t get found out myself…It was a good thing _everyone_ thought I was dead, that way no one would know where your help was coming from,” his face took on a pained expression and the sudden anger that had flared in him quickly drained away, “I missed not being able to talk to people…” He pretty much choked on his next words, “I missed…not being able to mess around with you guys…” He looked so sad and lonely.

                Sam turned to his brother and shrugged. They’d had their fair share of scrapes with the Archangel, but, when it counted, he’d been a good guy. Plus, it seemed that most of his shenanigans were meant to teach people a lesson (even if it meant they lost their lives in the process). Dean scowled, but relented and moved his arm out from in front of Sam. He promised himself he’d never admit it out loud, but he’d grown to like Gabriel, and had truly missed him when he thought he’d been killed.

                “Ah, c’mere, you,” Sam laughed, stepping out the door and pulling the shorter man into a hug.

                “I guess laying it on thick really worked,” Gabriel mumbled from the confines of Sam’s hug. He tried to sound disgusted with Sam’s display of affection, but sounded incredibly relieved and happy that his friend believed him.

                “You can say that again,” Dean grumbled, but patted Gabriel on the back nonetheless. He even smiled a bit as he said, “It’s great to have you back, man.”

                Sam let Gabriel go and was about to usher him inside when he spotted the tall, flowing-coated man talking on the cell phone a few feet away. “Gabriel, get inside,” Sam whispered.

                Dean had noticed the possible threat and was readjusting his gun when Gabriel stepped in front of it. “Actually, um…he’s a friend of mine,” he said sheepishly. The brothers stared at him, confused. Gabriel sighed, “Look, some people in the Queen’s land noticed the angels falling…they captured a couple of hunters, and they talked. They captured me too…but well,” he gestured to the man still talking on the phone, “Sherlock, here, made a deal to come and talk to the ‘professionals’ and bring me along as his guide. So, I’m a free man, thanks to him.”

                “Professionals?” Dean asked. Sam had seemed curious when Gabriel had mentioned the man’s name.

                “You, you morons. He wants to help sort this whole angel business out,” he turned towards Sherlock, who was already hanging up the phone with a “Take care, I’ll text you later,” as he strolled over to the group.

                “Morning, gentlemen,” He greeted, extending a gloved hand out towards Sam and Dean. They looked at him skeptically and a bit dubious, looking from his hand, to him, to Gabriel.

                Gabriel blew air out of his mouth, “Look, he’s a good guy. Real smart, too. Just, trust him.” He then turned to Sherlock, “Sherlock, this is Dean,” he pointed at the shorter man, “and Sam,” he pointed to the taller one whom also had longer hair, “Winchester.” He then turned to the boys, “Nitwits, this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.”

                Sam squeaked slightly when he heard Sherlock’s full name and quickly shook his hand without any hint of his earlier hesitation. Dean gave Sam a weird look before shaking Sherlock’s hand as well.

                “Come on in, then. It’s a lot safer to talk inside,” Dean stood to the side and waited as Sam, Gabriel, and Sherlock quickly stepped inside, and gave one last sweeping look outside before he shut the door and made his way to go listen to whatever Mr. Cheekbones had to say.

* * *

 

                _Bzz. Bzz. Bzzz._ Jack’s phone vibrated insistently. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes, confused as to why his phone would be ringing in the middle of the night. His eyes focused on the window and he realized that it wasn’t the middle of the night. It was the middle of the day. He picked up his cell phone, struggling to concentrate on the name that appeared on the screen.

                _Rose Tyler…_

His eyes shot open when the name registered in his brain, and he couldn’t seem to answer the phone quickly enough. When he finally did manage to answer the phone, he felt like he almost cried when he heard Rose’s voice.

                “ _Jack?_ ” She asked.

                “Rose! Haha, it’s great to hear from you, blondie,” Jack laughed, happy to have finally gotten a hold of them.

                He heard her call out to the Doctor before she said, “ _What’s up? I saw that you’d called a few times._ ”

                _Yeah,_ Jack thought, _I pretty much called you every hour since last week_. He shook his head before getting straight to his point, “We have a situation. There are new…life forms, here on Earth. And, they’ve been here since the beginning of the universe itself.” He knew he’d have to get their attention with that admission, and so was extremely surprised when Rose came back on the phone sounding a bit worried.

                “ _Um, Jack? We’ve got a situation here, too. We’ll pick you up as soon as we’ve got it sorted out.”_

                Jack had heard that tone of voice before. He could sense that they had found something, and it was probably something big. He gave them the name of the motel he was staying in and the date, then hung up, hearing Rose promise to come and get him as soon as possible.

                He just hoped that whatever it was they’d found didn’t make things any more complicated than they already were.

* * *

 

                “What is it, Doctor?” Rose called out from where she’d hung up on Jack.

                The Doctor was heading out of the TARDIS, staring intently at something outside. “Rose? Just stay inside, I’ll have a quick look-see,” the Doctor called back. He knew Rose was going to ignore his request but he had to try, so he left the TARDIS door open as he stepped out towards where heard the coughing fit.

                They were in Lafayette, Indiana, since Rose had been craving some American food and Lafayette had some very nice restaurants. It had been when they’d been getting back into the TARDIS in the rain that he’d heard the coughing coming from somewhere in the alley. Rose had been calling Jack back, so he didn’t run off to investigate so quickly. He’d heard that Jack had stumbled upon something very big, but the coughing had bugged him, so he’d decided to go check it out. He didn’t start heading towards the noise until he felt Rose standing behind him, gently urging him on.

                 Walking towards the source of the commotion, he came across a homeless man huddling closer to the wall of the building to try to keep out of the cold rain.

               “Are you alright over there?” the Doctor asked quietly, not wanting to startle the man. Upon closer inspection he could see that the man was withdrawing a dagger-like weapon from within his jacket.

               He turned toward them and shivered slightly as the rain was now hitting him full on the face. “Stop!” he coughed out. “I don’t know who sent you, but you aren’t human,” he continued, pulling his hood off his head, so that the Doctor and Rose could get a better look at him. The Doctor had felt himself grow cold when the man before them claimed he wasn’t human. It was true, but it severely disturbed him that this stranger had known so quickly and basically from just looking at him. The man slowly got up on one knee before saying, “Stop playing and kill me already…” He dropped the blade in defeat and kicked it over toward where they were standing.

               Rose and the Doctor watched him confused, before Rose approached the man slowly and gently said, “Hey, we aren’t going to hurt you.”

               “Yes, you are. Now please, just get it over with. You aren’t getting anything out of me, and plus, this is all my fault. I’m not telling you where the Winchesters are. So just, stop toying with me and make it quick,” he desperately pleaded, sounding extremely distraught.

               “Look,” the Doctor quietly said, “we don’t know what you’re talking about. But we can help you. Just come with us,” he pointed to the TARDIS, “and we’ll keep you safe and help you sort this all out.”

               He looked over in the direction of the TARDIS, slightly intrigued by what the machine was. Still seeing that he was very scared and didn’t yet trust them, Rose put a soothing hand on his shoulder and, when she saw he didn’t object, slowly raised him to his feet. “C’mon, you’ll be fine with us. I’m Rose,” she said, putting a hand to her chest, “and this is the Doctor,” she pointed at him. “You can trust us.” He had begun to follow her, feeling a sense of increasing calm. He could _feel_ that she was a good person, and knew that she was the type of person Sam and Dean were sure to trust. The Doctor…well he was an entirely different species all together. A species he hadn’t encountered yet. Rose had asked him something, but he hadn’t quite caught it.

               “What?” he asked, as he stepped through the threshold of the TARDIS and gasped. “It’s bigger on the inside!” he exclaimed, not able to suppress his curiosity and wonder at such a marvelous machine.

                    The Doctor laughed, “That’s what they all say,” before he pulled out a few chairs and gestured for them to take a seat.

                    Rose took a seat by the Doctor and re-asked her question, “I’d asked, what’s your name?”

                   “And what exactly are you?” the Doctor added, noticing that this man wasn’t any ordinary human himself.

                   “Castiel,” he answered without preamble and added in shame, “I was an angel of the Lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how was that for an ending!
> 
> Okay, so the last scene was basically inspired by this http://wifihunters.tumblr.com/post/67104658253 fabulous fanart. However, instead of making it Donna I changed it to Rose.
> 
> Hope you guys liked it! See you next month with the next chapter!


	3. Up To No Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean introduce Sherlock and Gabriel to Hell's favorite little demon whilst another character must face a demon of his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait until the 15th to put it up but since school starts tomorrow I said might as well just post it today before I forget. Hope you like it!
> 
> (And btw, does anyone know how to include links in the notes because I'm getting real tired of having to copy and paste the url into this all the time.)

                “Make yourselves at home,” Sam practically gushed, leading both Gabriel and Sherlock into the kitchen where Kevin had already drawn a devil’s trap and other warding symbols.

                “Just trying to be safe,” he shrugged sheepishly when Sam gave him a raised eyebrow. When Kevin saw their “guests” it seemed like he wanted to ask who they were, but he decided to just keep his curiosity to himself and went to get a clean dish rag to begin cleaning up the symbols he’d painted.

                Dean came bustling in just then, burger in one hand and shotgun in the other. He set the shotgun down and gave his burger a huge bite. “S’rry if ‘m being rude by eatin’ in fron’ of you two,” he swallowed his mouthful, “but it’s Sunday morning and I’m starving.” He then opened up the fridge and pulled out a couple of beers. He only took out three: one for himself, one for Gabriel, and one for Sherlock. He knew Sam didn’t like to drink so early in the day, and Kevin wasn’t quite old enough to drink alcohol legally anyways.

                “S’okay, Dean-o,” Gabriel replied taking a seat at the kitchen counter, “we grabbed ourselves something to eat at a diner in town before showing up here. But,” his eyes gleamed mischievously, “I will take one of those.” Dean set a bottle on the counter in front of Gabriel and lifted the other one in Sherlock’s direction.

                Sherlock wrinkled his nose slightly before saying, “No, thank you.”

                “Well suit yourself, man,” Dean responded, taking a drink from his bottle.

                Kevin had begun cleaning up the warding symbols and barely glanced up in order to mask his curiosity as he asked, “Dudes? Who exactly are these two?”

                Sam set his own gun down on the counter before going over and bringing Kevin from his place on the kitchen floor to properly introduce him to their guests. “This is Gabriel,” Sam said, indicating the short man with the dark blonde hair and the crazy grin, “He’s an Archangel.”

                “Damn right,” Gabriel answered, taking a long drink from the bottle Dean had given him.

                “And this,” Sam continued, almost bursting with suppressed joy, “is Sherlock Holmes.”

                Sherlock extended his hand towards Kevin, “It’s a pleasure to meet y-“

                “Oh my God!” Kevin exclaimed, taking a hold of Sherlock’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “I’m Kevin Tran, Advanced Placement Honors Student, and current Prophet of the Lord,” he said quickly, “I’m a giant fan Mr. Holmes, a giant fan!” He seemed to regain his composure because he stood up straight and gestured at both Sam and himself, “We’re both avid readers of your friend’s blog.”

                “Ooooh, _that_ ,” Sherlock practically groaned.

                “Wait, what’s going on?” Gabriel asked, thoroughly confused that both Kevin AND Sam were freaking out so much about some guy they’d just met. “What do you mean ‘giant fan’?”

                “So that’s why Sammy acted like a star struck middle-schooler when he heard Sherlock’s name!” Dean laughed. He turned to Gabriel, “Sherlock’s this famous internet detective. Or well a part of a detective duo, his cases are all online, on the blog of a Doctor…”

                “Watson!” Sherlock, Kevin, and Sam supplied, all with varying degrees of excitement/ fondness.

                “Yeah, Doctor Watson’s blog. They read it all the time honestly,” Dean finished with a chuckle.

                Gabriel digested the information for a moment then began to ask “So, John, your roommate…”

                 “Flatmate,” Sherlock corrected.

                “Flatmate, whatever. John…writes a blog about all your little adventures together?” Gabriel wanted to see how Sherlock would react to the question. He knew he had a soft spot for John, which was something normal to have for someone you lived with, but the emotions he’d felt around  Sherlock whenever anything having to do with John came up suggested that there was something more. Plus, the fact that Sherlock talks when he sleeps gave Gabriel more reason to believe there was something else there.

                And, to prove Gabriel’s assumption further, Sherlock began to grow slightly pink as he answered the question. “Yes, he does. I used to find it oh so frustrating and annoying, having everything exposed to the public. I mean, how am I to keep my anonymity if everyone knows who I am and what I do?”

                “But…?” Gabriel supplied.

                “But what?” Sherlock deadpanned.

                “You said you ‘used to’ find it annoying. How do you feel about it now?” Gabriel knew he had him cornered.

                Sam, Dean, and Kevin were watching this little exchange like spectators at a tennis match.

                “Oh, did I say ‘used to’?” Sherlock asked, feigning innocence, “I meant to say that I _do_ find it annoying and frustrating.” Sherlock then gave Gabriel a sharp look, one that said _We’ll discuss this later._

                Gabriel only shrugged, “Oh alright, then.” He turned to the boys, “So, any word on what happened in Heaven that sent us all crashing down?”

                “We know it was a spell,” Kevin said, “Metatron used the Angel Tablet to flush all the angels out of Heaven. Except for himself, of course.”

                “The _scribe_?” Gabriel asked incredulously, almost spitting out his beer.

                “Yeah,” Sam answered. “He got his hands on the angel tablet and got Cas to help him-“

                “Cas was _tricked_ into helping Metatron,” Dean interrupted, quickly defending Cas. “Metatron made Cas believe that he was closing the gates of Heaven. I thought I was never going to hear from him again the night the angels fell-“ Dean cut himself off, feeling himself getting so worked up over something that happened more than a month and a half ago.

                Sam gave Dean a comforting pat on the back, “It’s been pretty hard, trying to find homes for the angels that fell. We did get the majority of them under Hunter custody. They’re teaching them either how to just live out the time being on co-pilot in a host body,” Sam gave Dean a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder when he felt his brother jump slightly, “or how to hunt. There haven’t been any major mishaps with the angels so far but…”

                “It’d be best if you got them back to Heaven.” Sherlock finished.

                “Yeah,” Sam answered.

                Gabriel stood up from his chair and stretched a bit as he asked, “How’s my brother Cassie doing, anyway?” He saw the way Dean dropped his gaze and both Sam and Kevin grimaced slightly. He started to feel himself grow slightly worried as he pressed, “You have heard from my baby brother, right?”

                “We heard from him the following morning, after the fall,” Sam said forlornly.

                “He called me…on our way home from the Hell trials,” Dean sighed. He then turned to look at Gabriel, “We haven’t heard anything from him since.”

                  He knew he shouldn’t push it, Gabriel knew he shouldn’t feel the anger blossoming inside him but he just couldn’t help it. He wanted to yell at the boys, tell them that they were supposed to take care of Cas, but one look at Dean and he knew that it was no use: they knew they had messed up. And it hurt them severely knowing that one of their closest friends was out there doing God knows what…if he were still alive, that is. _Stop that_ , Gabriel chided himself. He had to hope for the best; it was no use to freak out about the worst case scenarios. That would only bring upon more worry. In the end, Gabriel only shrugged, trying to gain as much of his playful air as possible, “Castiel’s a big boy now; he knows how to take care of himself.”

                Kevin and Sam nodded, but Dean only took a swig from his beer and stared out at nothing in particular, deeply lost in thought.

                Sherlock could pretty much taste the despair and desolation in the air, so he decided to steer the conversation back to the (biggest) problem at hand. “Gentlemen,” he began, getting the general attention of the room, “so Metatron, God’s scribe, banished all the angels from Heaven to Earth using a spell he found on the ‘Angel Tablet’?”

                “Yeah,” Sam confirmed.

                “Is there any way we can get the Tablet back?” Sherlock asked.

                “Not that we know of,” Dean answered, coming out of his reverie and setting his bottle of booze down.

                Sherlock pondered the information for a few seconds. A spell. A Tablet. The Scribe. A Prophet. He remembered a piece of information Gabriel had told him. A demon. The King of Hell. He backtracked. A Prophet.

                A very young Prophet.

                “Mr.Tran,” Kevin jumped slightly at being addressed by Sherlock so directly, “you translated the Angel Tablet I presume?”

                “Uh, y-yeah,” Kevin muttered before clearing his throat and continuing in a much steadier voice, “I’ve got all the notes in my room.” Everyone just stared at Kevin in silence until he understood and he jumped out of his seat exclaiming, “I’ll go get them!” as he ran off towards his room.

                “You think there could be some sort of ‘undo’ spell for whatever Metatron cast?” Gabriel asked excitedly.

                Sam ran a hand through his hair, “There isn’t anything. We’ve had Kevin combing his notes for over a month, and he hasn’t found a thing.” He turned to Sherlock, “Having Kevin go through his notes again won’t lead to anything new.”

                “I know that,” Sherlock replied quickly, “but I noticed that the boy is fresh out of high school, probably 20 years old.” Sam frowned and Dean bit his lower lip, obviously feeling as if they’d forgotten something but not being able to recall what exactly they had forgotten as Sherlock carried on “And since he’s a prophet, he probably doesn’t have much field work when it comes to this whole ‘Saving People, Hunting Things, the Family Business’ stuff you Winchesters have become accustomed to. Therefore I wasn’t going to make my request in front of-“

                “Wait, how do you know that’s what I say about being a Hunter?” Dean asked abruptly, very suspicious about having had Sherlock basically recite the exact words he’d said to Sam all those years ago.

                  “I read Carver Edlund’s novelizations of your lives. I believe it was in the second book, _Wendigo_ , where you and Sam helped the siblings find their lost brother at Blackwater Ridge,” he said matter-of-factly.

                Both Sam and Dean groaned. “You got him to read the _books_?” Sam asked Gabriel incredulously.

                Gabriel shrugged and gave a shy smile, “Sorry dude, he wanted to know about _everything_ and well I knew that the books were the best way to fill him in without forgetting anything.”

                Dean just shook his head but didn’t press Gabriel further. Instead he turned to Sherlock. “What’s this ‘request’?”

                Sherlock steepled his fingers, “Our kind friend here,” he inclined his head towards Gabriel, “has informed me you have a demon in this bunker. To be more specific, you have the King of Hell here. Am I correct?”

                If looks could kill, Gabriel would’ve probably been dead by now with the glare Dean shot his way. Gabriel just lifted his hands in a placating gesture as Dean huffed, “Yeah, what about him?”

                “May I talk to him?” Sherlock asked.

                Dean turned to Sam and they shared a silent exchange. Sam seemed to be pretty okay with letting Sherlock talk to Crowley, but Dean wasn’t so sure. They barely knew the guy! Well, he barely knew the guy, Sam on the other hand knew this guy’s life story like the back of his hand. Dean shook his head the tiniest bit to show Sam he was not okay. Sam just gave him the saddest freaking puppy eyes he could muster. And God, for a 30-year-old, they were pretty damn effective.

                Sighing, Dean stood up whilst answering Sherlock’s question. “Yeah, you can talk to him.”

* * *

 

                Jack jumped out of the chair he’d been sitting in and ran to the window. _He knew that sound. Please, please, please be the Doctor and not my imagination,_ he thought _._ Jack looked out and, sure enough, there was the TARDIS materializing out of thin air in the parking lot of his motel.

                The Doctor had just begun to open up the TARDIS door when Jack had already sprinted out his room and was shouting at him from the second story outdoor hallway. “Doctor!” Jack shouted waving his arms.

                “Why, hello Jack!” the Doctor answered back, watching Jack bound down the stairs two at a time until he stood before him, slightly out of breath.

                “Oh my God, it is great to see you!” Jack exclaimed, pulling the Doctor into a tight hug. He pulled back and saw Rose peek her head out the TARDIS door with a wide grin.

                “Oi, can’t you two have your reunion on the road?” she asked, trying to sound stern and scolding but failing and instead sounding immensely pleased that their old friend was joining them.

                “Yeah, we’d better get going. And you’d better tell us what’s going on whilst we travel, Jack, because we’ve got things to tell you about too,” the Doctor said, turning slightly grave and going back into the TARDIS.

                Jack followed him onboard and gave Rose a quick hug and a “I’ve missed you, blondie” before he rounded the TARDIS central control unit to sit at the chairs he knew would be on the other side. What he didn’t expect to see was a disgruntled man in a red hoodie, blue jacket, jeans and sneakers sitting in one of the chairs and staring around the TARDIS in wonder.

                “Why, helloooo,” Jack purred.

                “Hello,” the man answered politely, looking over at him.

                Jack was about to compliment the man when the Doctor walked over and sat beside him, giving him a stern look. “Don’t even think about it,” he scolded.

                “I was only saying hi!” Jack exclaimed, jumping on the defensive.

                “Mmmhmmm,” Rose hummed, “sure you were ‘only saying hi’, you big flirt.” She walked over to the man and sat next to him.

                He turned to her and quietly asked, “Is this Captain Jack Harkness?”

                “Sure am, handsome,” Jack grinned, “and don’t think I mind handing over leadership in certain situations,” he finished with a wink.

                “I don’t think I understand,” the man said, turning from Jack, to the Doctor, to Rose, clueless and hoping for an explanation.

                Jack gave him a seductive smile, “Don’t worry, I can show y-“

                “Castiel,” the Doctor interrupted, shooting Jack a pointed look telling him to kindly _stop_ , “how about you tell Jack what’s happened?”

                “Oh, so your name’s Castiel, huh?” Jack sat forward in his seat, “seems like such a heavenly name.”

                Castiel’s face fell slightly. Rose patted his arm before she cleared her throat, “Yeah, um, that’s kind of what we’re going to be discussing.”

                “Heavenly names?” Jack asked, confused.

                The Doctor stood up from beside Jack and began to pull levers and push buttons on the TARDIS central control. “Nope, just about Heaven and what’s gone wrong,” the Doctor called out from somewhere along the control panel.

                Jack suddenly grew serious as he asked Castiel, “Wait, so you know what’s going on?” He turned to look at the Doctor and then at Rose, “You all know?”

                “Yeah,” Rose answered before inquiring her own question, “you know about it too?”

                “That’s why I’d been trying to get a hold of you guys.” Jack could feel that whatever these three were going to tell him was going to throw a wrench in his already precarious understanding of the situation.

                “Well, Castiel here has some very important information about what’s gone wrong, and while we’ll fill you in on the way, we’ve gotta go and find the ‘go-to’ Hunter team,” the Doctor said, reappearing beside Jack and turning to Castiel, “where did you say we had to go?”

                “Lebanon,” Castiel quickly responded, “Lebanon, Kansas.”

                “To Lebanon, Kansas it is!” The Doctor exclaimed, running back to the controls and punching in the coordinates, “Allons-y!”

* * *

 

                Sam, Dean, Sherlock, and Gabriel all stood outside Crowley’s holding cell. “…just look, he can be a real dick most of the time,” Sam finished, making sure Sherlock and Gabriel both knew how to deal with Crowley.

                “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, Bigfoot,” Gabriel grinned. “He won’t get under our skin, right Sher?” he elbowed Sherlock lightly.

                Sherlock was looking through the rows of books and boxes obscuring Crowley from view and only absentmindedly nodded in agreement.

                Dean pulled the lever and the shelves began to move out of the way, opening up the dungeon where Crowley sat chained to a chair in the middle of a Devil’s Trap. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you,” he muttered.

                Crowley blinked to get his eyes adjusted to the light before asking “What d’you numbskulls want today?” He squinted a little and made out that there were two others with the Winchesters. “Finally found your fallen angel?” he smirked at Dean as he stepped into Crowley’s cell. Sam followed close behind and threw Dean a warning look when he saw how heated Crowley’s comment had left him.

                Dean was about to open his mouth with a scathing retort but was cut short when Gabriel waltzed into the cell and exclaimed, “Fallen angel? Yep. Dean’s…” He turned to Dean and gave him a once over, “Nah, don’t think so. Little bro’s already called dibs on the guy.” Gabriel finally turned his gaze to Crowley. “Crowley,” he greeted.

                “Gabriel,” Crowley returned, mildly surprised, “I thought you’d been killed by big brother Luci.”

                Gabriel shrugged, “Can’t really get the luxury to die now, can I? Not with these two idiots in charge of keeping the world safe.”

                Crowley snorted, “You’ve got that right.” He then glanced over Gabriel’s shoulder, “Who’s your friend over there?”

                “Oh, him?” Gabriel asked, turning slightly and seeing that Sherlock hadn’t followed him. “That’s my boy toy, picked him up from the land of tea and biscuits after I fell,” he smirked turning to the Winchesters and seeing that they almost cracked a smile.

                Sherlock had been observing the whole exchange from the shadows but decided to now walk into the cell after Gabriel’s “introduction”. He came to a stop before the demon and outstretched his hand, “Sherlock-“

                “Holmes,” Crowley finished, bringing his chained hand to shake Sherlock’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you, especially after you made enemies with Moriarty. Kept a special eye on you.”

                “Excuse me?” Sherlock asked, not having expected this _at all._

                “King of Hell has to have some form of entertainment. So are you ‘Prepared to burn’, Sherlock? ‘Prepared to do what ordinary people won’t do’?” Crowley drawled.

                Sherlock felt a cold hand grip his heart and send shivers down his spine, but he did not let it show. He had his stoic expression set in place and was not going to let Crowley see what he was doing. However, even though Crowley couldn’t _see_ what Sherlock was feeling, he could most certainly sense it. And so could Gabriel.

                 The Winchesters just watched the both of them, confused but waiting to see how this would play out – Dean seeing this as a chance to see whether Sherlock could be trusted and Sam using this as a chance to see how Crowley would try to turn them on the detective.

                 Crowley carried on when he saw no one was going to interrupt him, “’You want me to shake hands with _you_ in Hell’, Mr. Holmes? Because I’ll make sure ‘I shall not disappoint you’.” Sherlock was starting to crack slightly, his breaths coming in short, imperceptible gasps. “But, who am I kidding, right Sherlock? ‘You’re ordinary’, and ‘You’re on the side of the Angels.’”

                 Sherlock’s words came rushing back to him, words he’d said over two years ago on the rooftop of St. Barts Hospital. “’I may be on the side of the Angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them,’” he whispered hoarsely. He gripped his scarf and twisted it around trying to keep the bile from rising in his throat. He knew he’d just played right into Crowley’s hands. “How did you know about that?” Sherlock asked, turning cold eyes to Crowley.

                 “Kept a special eye on you, dearie,” Crowley drawled, “Why, _any_ King of Hell would have done the same after seeing so much potential in a future demon.”

                 The room grew so silent a pin drop could have been heard.

                 “Sherlock get out,” Dean growled, breaking the silence, “Go see Kevin’s notes. Now.”

                 Sherlock’s head whipped to Dean so fast it was a miracle he didn’t snap his neck. He’d forgotten that Dean, Sam, and Gabriel were in the room. He seemed to want to protest his dismissal but thought better of it seeing how tense Dean was - jaw clenched and hands shaking slightly.

                 Gabriel ushered Sherlock out of the cell and quietly followed, slightly afraid that Dean might do something rash when he was as tense as he was at the moment.

                As soon as Gabriel and Sherlock were out of the room, the Winchesters turned towards Crowley. “You know Sherlock?” Dean asked, demanding tone to his voice.

               “Of course not,” Crowley answered, feigning innocence, “I just kept a close watch on him.”

                “Was that it?” Sam pressed venomously.

                “Whoa there, spitfire. And, yes, that was it. He was never aware that I was monitoring him,” Crowley finished with a yawn. “Now can you both leave me alone? I need my beauty sleep.”

               Sam and Dean exchanged a glance and wordlessly left the Crowley’s cell, locking it up on their way out. Only when they were finally out in the hallway did they talk again.

              “We can’t trust him,” Dean deadpanned.

               “Who: Sherlock or Crowley?” Sam asked.

              Dean wiped a hand across his face, already feeling tired, “Neither of them. You heard Crowley, he talks about Sherlock like some proud Demon-Daddy.”

              “But you said it yourself,” Sam countered, “We can’t trust Crowley. He was probably just baiting Sherlock and hoping that we wouldn’t trust him afterward.”

              “Sam, we can’t _afford_ to trust Sherlock and then have him turn on us,” Dean sighed.

              “Gabriel trusts him,” Sam pushed, “and even though you may not like to admit it, he’s good when it comes to judging character.”

              Dean was about to argue that _No, they just could trust Sherlock_ when suddenly a sharp knock rang through the bunker.

              “What was that?” Sam asked slowly, looking up at where he knew the bunker door would be since they were a couple of levels underground.

              “Seems like we’ve got more visitors,” Dean grumbled as he made his way to the stairs.

* * *

 

                “Agh!” John hissed, stepping out of his warm shower.

                He reached for his towel with lightning rapidity, drying himself and throwing on his clothes. It was 2 o’clock and he getting ready to take the afternoon shift at the clinic. He’d woken up at 7 in the morning to a good morning text from Sherlock, one which he promptly responded before rolling over and going back to sleep. During Sherlock’s first week away, Sherlock had been so wrapped up in his research that he’d call John sporadically, at the most random times of the day. These last two days John received periodic texts from Sherlock at the same times – always a good morning text at 7 am and a good night text at 9 pm. At first John had scolded Sherlock for waking up at 2 in the morning in America only to say good morning to him but Sherlock waved his worries aside, saying that it was just a quick text before he went back to sleep. And if John were completely honest with himself, he’d admit that he did like that Sherlock was keeping up his end of the bargain and texting him daily.

                John bustled into the kitchen, setting the kettle on and putting some toast in the toaster. It was too late to be making himself breakfast, but since he’d only had a couple of biscuits with some hot chocolate that morning, breakfast seemed like a good choice this afternoon.

                Spreading jam onto his toast, John thought about the last month, a month that held major changes to his life.

                The first (and the most important) change was that Sherlock had come back from the dead. Or, well, he’d come back from destroying Moriarty’s network. Whilst at first John had felt betrayed and extremely angry, he’d just felt so happy, excited, relieved, grateful, and a whole lot of other joyous emotions as he strangled the lanky detective in the restaurant where he’d made his presence known to John.

                The second change (which made John a bit sad) was that Mary left him. It had come with absolutely no warning. They’d dated for more than a year, hell, he was going to ask her to marry him the same night Sherlock came back, but in the end she left. It’d been a week since Sherlock had come back: all she did was that she packed his bags and told him they couldn’t be together anymore. She’d had such a sad smile when he’d asked her “Why?” and she responded, “You’ll thank me eventually.”

                That led to him coming back to 221B Baker Street and asking his best friend if he could have his old place back. Sherlock had been more than happy to have John back and that had made the pain of having been dumped by Mary hurt much less.

                 John had been so sad, so heartbroken at first, but, under it all, he’d felt a complete sense of _relief_. He hadn’t known from what, he still didn’t, but he knew it had something to do with not having to stay with Mary. It had something to do with being able to come back and stand by his best friend, just like old times. John had loved Mary, but he loved Sherlock much more – as, as a friend, of course.

                Just as a friend.

               He sighed to himself and quickly took the last bites of his toast and gulped down his tea. He felt his appetite begin to decrease as he began to smell what seemed to be rotten eggs. _Sherlock’s probably left another experiment to rot_ , he thought, taking a final sip of tea. _I’ll clean the flat later and find whatever’s gone bad._ He then made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth and 5 minutes later was putting on his jacket and heading downstairs to the front door.

              Then the lights started to flicker.

              “Mrs. Hudson? You want me to get these lights checked out later?” John called out. He merely shrugged when he received no response and continued down the stairs, knowing Mrs. Hudson was probably already out running errands.

             “Johnny dear, I don’t think you’ll be able to check those lights out later,” a voice drawled from the top of the staircase. “And bless Mrs. Hudson’s heart, she went out to buy new bulbs as soon as these started to flicker.”

             John froze in his tracks, blood running cold. He’d heard that voice before. It was seared to his brain. It was the voice that haunted his nightmares.

             He slowly turned to look at the man in the tailored suit standing at the top of the stairs, looking down at him with a bored expression.

             “Long time no see, John,” he suddenly grinned maliciously.

             John stumbled back, scrabbling for the front door. _No, it couldn’t be, no, no, no, no, no, no! –_

            The man nonchalantly strolled down the stairs, John trying to get the door open – but it was no use. It seemed to have been sealed tight by some unknown force.

            “Y-you’re dead-“ John choked out through his panicked fear turning back to the man.

            The man came to stand right before John and crouched down to get to his eye level. John felt as if his heart stopped when the man’s brown eyes suddenly became engulfed in black. “Oh John,” he whispered, almost affectionately. He reached out and patted John’s cheek, “You’re absolutely right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh no! John's in trouble! Sherlock, where ever could you be?
> 
> And sorry, no Destiel reunion yet, but don't worry, you'll get it soon enough!
> 
> Hope you liked the chapter, and I'll see you next month!


	4. Friends and Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Destiel reunion after Cas' 2 month disappearance and the preparations for a sweet little celebration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is pretty fluffy because I needed some fluff in my life. Hope you like it!

                Hand poised to knock once again, Cas awkwardly stood in front of the bunker door. He hadn’t seen Dean since about a day ago, since before the fall and before the Doctor and Rose found him. He had talked to him though. Explained to him how he’d been tricked by Metatron. But the fall was still all his fault.

                Cas pulled his hand back as if it’d been burned.

                _The fall had been his fault._

Sam and Dean would never forgive him. Not again, after messing up a second time. He wanted to turn and run away, get as far away from Dean’s disappointment, from his anger, from his _hatred_ , as possible. Because that’s probably what Dean felt for him. Hatred. Hatred for giving him and his brother yet another mess to clean up. Plus, Sam was still hurt. Last time he’d talked to Dean, the angel, Ezekiel, had been healing Sam.

                They probably didn’t even need him, not with Ezekiel, an angel who still had his grace, around. He could still smite his enemies and could heal others. What could Cas do? He couldn’t even hold a gun properly for crying out loud.

                He was about to turn back to the Doctor and tell him to handle things from there, that he couldn’t stay, when the door was wretched open.

                “Cas…”

* * *

 

                Dean stood open mouthed, his gun clattering to the ground. There stood Castiel, slight peach fuzz, dark blue eyes, and messy black hair. Only thing different was that he wasn’t in his usual clothes, and the dejectedly sad look in his eyes.

                “Dean, I’m-“ Cas began, but was cut off when Dean crossed the threshold and closed the space between them, pulling Cas into a tight hug.

                “Cas…It’s really you,” Dean whispered, wrapping his arms even tighter around the slightly shorter man’s shoulders. He could feel a relieved sob beginning to form in the back of his throat, threatening to choke him. He only managed to swallow it down when he felt Cas hug him back.

                 He mumbled something incoherent into Dean’s shoulder.

                 “What was that?” Dean asked, pulling away and wiping a hand across his face to wipe any sign of his tears of joy.

                 “I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas repeated, voice turning small. He pulled away from him. “It’s all my fault the angels fell, I’m sorry.”

                 Dean now realized why Cas had seemed so sad when he opened the door. “Cas, buddy, this isn’t all on you,” he reassured him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to do anything to make him feel better.

                 Sam came to stand behind Dean, gun in his own hand. “Dean, why didn’t you wait for-“ He gasped as Dean stood to the side to reveal Castiel. “Cas!” He pulled the blue eyed man into a hug as Dean had done, only his was a few seconds shorter.

                 “Cas, where’ve you been? We’ve been waiting and searching for almost two months,” Sam began, feeling like the question was necessary in helping them make up for lost time.

                 “Two months?” Cas tilted his head a little to the left and squinted his eyes, obviously confused. “I’ve been gone for about a day, maybe two.”

                 “That would be my work!” someone called out from the road. He bounded towards the bunker door followed by a pretty blond and dark haired man.

                 “Friends of yours?” Dean cautiously asked.

                 “Yes,” Cas responded, “they rescued me from the rain on my first night as a human.” He looked up at the blue sky and the fluffy clouds. “But it had only just gotten dark, I don’t understand how it can be daytime already.”

                  The man came to stand by Cas’s side and immediately extended his hand out to the boys. “I’m the Doctor,” he introduced.

                 Sam shook his hand first, “I’m Sam Winchester and this is my brother-“

                “Dean,” the Doctor beamed moving on to shake Dean’s hand, “I’ve heard a lot about you two.” He then turned to the girl and the other guy that had come to stand behind Cas. “And this is Rose Tyler and Jack Harkness.”

                “ _Captain_ Jack Harkness,” Jack corrected, going to shake the boys’ hands. “Hello brooding male model,” he shook Dean’s hand, “and mysterious handsome hair,” he shook Sam’s hand.

                Dean shot Sam a quick questioning look. Sam only shrugged.

               “Oi Jack, leave ‘em alone,” Rose scolded, shaking Sam and Dean’s hands. “So you’re the people Castiel told us all about! It’s great to meet you!”

               “Yeah, you too,” Sam politely returned.

               Dean turned to the Doctor, “You said this was ‘your work’.”

               “Oh yes,” he shoved his hands into his pockets, “you see, the vehicle I brought Castiel here with, it’s called a TARDIS, which is an acronym for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. In short, it’s a spaceship,” he began to rock on his heels, “and a time machine.”

               “Wait, excuse me?” Dean asked, feeling like the Doctor was just pulling a really bad joke.

               “It’s true. That’s why it’s been two months for you, but only a day for Castiel. I met him two months ago in your time, but in my time it’s only been a day. I took him from October 7th and brought him here to -”

              “December 2nd,” Sam supplied.

              “And how can you possibly do that?” Dean pressed, not feeling like he could swallow this guy’s story.

              “The TARDIS is technology from Gallifrey,” the Doctor explained.

              “So you’re what - an alien?” Sam asked, feeling as if he’d heard that name before.

              “Don’t be ridiculous, aliens aren’t real,” Dean scoffed.

              “Oh yeah, they’re real all right, Dean. And yes, Sam, I’m an alien. More specifically a Time Lord,” the Doctor finished with a grin.

              “Well, thanks for bringing Cas home,” Dean said taking Cas’s arm and slowly tugging him into the bunker, sounding like a mother who’d just met her child’s eccentric friends and was trying to shoo them away. “You should be getting along now.”

              The girl, Rose, smacked the Doctor’s shoulders, “See! You’ve scared them!”

              “Gosh Doctor, will you never be able to make friends without frightening them,” Jack laughed.

             “I have not frightened them!” the Doctor shot back, turning to Rose and Jack and reminding them of all the friends he’d made across time and space.

             Cas was now inside the bunker, safe behind Dean. He tugged at the back of Dean’s shirt to get his attention and whispered, “Dean, please, they’re my friends. They want to help.”

             Dean looked over at Sam for his opinion. “They look like nice people,” Sam whispered watching how Rose and Jack reminded the Doctor about all the alien species that want him dead, “Plus, I think the Men of Letters have something on him.”

            “Any funny business and they’re out,” Dean stated, seeing he was losing the fight.

            “Thank you,” Cas smiled.

            “You guys should come inside, you know, out of the cold,” Dean called out to the three. He moved to the side as the Doctor, Rose, and Jack all walked in and were herded down the stairs and towards the kitchen by Sam.

             He caught a quiet “Ha! See I _didn’t_ scare them,” from the Doctor and an amused snort from Jack as they walked by.

             Dean began to lock the front door, making sure the wards were still in place and that the bunker was still secure. He didn’t expect to see anyone still with him when he turned around, so it was a pleasant surprise to see Cas had waited for him. “So, how’re you feeling?” Dean asked.

             Cas fiddled with the hem of his jacket, “I-I’m okay.” He looked down to the floor and whispered a bit brokenly, “I was afraid you’d hate me…”

            “Don’t you start with that again,” Dean put a hand on his shoulder and Cas met his gaze, “You’re my best friend, man. Hell, you’re one of the only friends I’ve had. I don’t think I could _ever_ hate you. Plus,” and Dean made sure he put as much conviction in his voice as possible, “this wasn’t your fault. You were tricked. Okay?” Cas nodded. “So is that it? Is there anything else, buddy?” Dean asked again.

            “My stomach hurts,” Cas admitted. At that moment a sound like a wounded whale was heard, and Cas’s hand flew to his stomach. “I think I’m dying,” he said, completely serious.

            Dean laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder, “You’re just hungry, don’t jump to such drastic conclusions. Have you eaten anything?”

            “Just a candy bar.”

            “Well then, how about I make you a burger?” Dean offered.

            Cas brightened up considerably at the prospect of food, “That sounds like a good idea.”

            They made their way to the kitchen where Sam and the other three were sitting. Sam was looking through a journal and having an avid conversation with the Doctor. “Dean, I told you we had something on him!” Sam beamed.

           “Yeah? What’s on file?” Dean asked, going to the stove and firing it up before he began rifling through the fridge to find the correct ingredients.

           “Well get this: the Doctor has been sighted almost all the way back to Men of Letters origins. He’s even helped them on cases that have turned out to be dead ends but he explains have probably been alien cases. He goes by the same name, ‘the Doctor’, but there’s different descriptions of him. There are a few that crop up multiple times, even a description that matches him as he is currently, but apparently it’s been him the entire time. He was just explaining to me how ‘regeneration’ works,” Sam finished, slightly out of breath from all the information that he’d relayed to Dean.

           “Oh, really? Well if our forefathers trusted him, I guess it’s all right,” Dean conceded, obviously in a much better mood after seeing Cas was okay. “But what’s this about regeneration?”

           “Regeneration is a biological ability we Time Lords are born with,” the Doctor began explaining, “It allows a Time Lord who is old or mortally wounded to transform into a new physical form and sometimes even our personalities change. I myself have undergone 10 regenerations.”

          “Which explains the different descriptions given when Men of Letters have met you,” Sam muttered, focused intently on writing everything the Doctor had said down.

          “Pretty impressive for an alien.” Dean flipped the burger patty he was cooking, “Anyone else hungry?”

          “Nope, handsome, thanks for asking,” Jack winked, “but maybe the Doctor and Rose might be a bit hungry.”

          “No thanks, we ate a few hours ago and aren’t hungry,” Rose answered, coming to stand beside Dean at the stove. “Do you need any help?”

          “I’m good, thanks.” He glanced over at her, “Are you a Time Lord too?”

          “I’m 100% human,” Rose said proudly, “I only hitched a ride with this guy about 2 years ago and I’ve been traveling with him ever since.”

          Dean hummed in response, finishing up Cas’s burger and setting it in front of the ravenous angel. _Ex-angel_ , he quietly reminded himself.

          Cas thanked him and began eating his burger, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips.

          “Good, huh?” Dean smiled, pleased that Cas liked his cooking. Cas nodded enthusiastically before he took another bite.

          Dean cleaned his hands on a dishrag before he sat in between Cas and Sam and listened to the Doctor explain more of himself and they in turn explained the situation they found themselves currently in.

* * *

 

          “Yeah, these are it,” Kevin said, spreading the remainder of his notes on the Angel Tablet on his bed.

          Sherlock quickly scanned them as he had done with the other notes. “And there aren’t any other connections you could draw from here to the fall and the restoration of the angels to Heaven?”

          “Nope,” Kevin sighed, running a hand through his unruly dark hair.

          “It’s all right kid, don’t stress yourself out over this,” Gabriel reassured, feeling the stress rolling off of Kevin like waves of heat. Sometimes it really sucked being able to sense emotions.

          “Well thank you for allowing us to see your notes,” Sherlock smiled, “We’ll be heading back to the kitchen to wait for the Winchesters now.”

          “I’ll catch up with you in a bit,” Kevin called out, already picking up his notes and muttering fragments and pieces of them to himself.

           Gabriel and Sherlock walked down the hall and began to go up the stairs to ground level, where they knew the kitchen was. Sherlock was deep in thought, bits of the notes bouncing around his head. He felt like there was something there, he just wasn’t seeing the picture clearly. However, his thoughts were interrupted as Gabriel stopped him on the stairwell and turned on him with a, “Well?”

           “’Well’ what?” Sherlock mumbled, already knowing where this was going.

           “What was with that ‘I used to find it frustrating’ thing about John earlier?”

           Sherlock wiped a hand across his face, really not wanting to have to talk to Gabriel about his _feelings._ “It was nothing, just a vocabulary mishap. Happens to the best of us.”

           Gabriel gave Sherlock a sharp look before continuing, “Lookie here buddy. You may have the others fooled, but I’m an angel. Archangel. I may not have access to Heaven and may not be able to fly my ass to places anymore but I can still do angel things. Like sense emotions. So c’mon, tell me. What’s up with you and this John guy?”

           “Nothing is ‘up’ with John and I,” Sherlock responded, sounding a little disappointed despite himself.

           “Hm, do I sense some sorrow in your voice?” Gabriel joked.

           “If you’re only going to tease me about it just shove off, Gabriel,” Sherlock sighed.

           “No no, Sher, it’s okay. I don’t judge. And it’s okay, you don’t have to admit anything to me out loud. Your emotions are loud enough.” Gabriel knew Sherlock didn’t want to carry on the conversation and he didn’t want to pry, so they just dropped the subject and continued up the stairs, eventually being joined by Kevin.

           They walked down the long hallway until they reached the kitchen, completely surprised to find it full of people.

            “Look who just got here, Gabriel!” Dean called out.

            Gabriel turned to see Dean sitting at the kitchen counter and grinning over at Cas who was wolfing down a burger. “Cassie!” Gabriel exclaimed in glee, relieved and glad his little brother was safe.

            Cas set his burger down on his plate and turned to Gabriel with a light smile, “Gabriel, Dean has already told me about you faking your death. I’m glad you’re okay.”

            “Okay? I basically come back from the dead and all you say is ‘I’m glad you’re okay’?” Gabriel repeated exasperatedly as he crossed the kitchen to stand by his brother. He tossed his arm over his shoulders and gave him a tight squeeze, “I’m glad you’re okay too, little bro.”

            “Hello everyone,” Sherlock called from the kitchen door, addressing Cas and the other three individuals that Gabriel had ignored.

            “More visitors?” Kevin asked, peeking his head over Sherlock’s shoulder. “Oh! And its Cas!” he exclaimed.

            “Why hello Mr. Holmes,” the man in the pinstripe brown suit and converse exclaimed. “Now I do indeed remember you!” He jumped up from his seat across Sam and came to shake his hand enthusiastically, “I take it you remember me?”

            Sherlock shook his hand cautiously with a shake of his head, “I don’t think we’ve met before.”

            “Oh, then it must’ve been another time perhaps?” He gave Sherlock a wide grin, “I’m the Doctor,” he then pointed at the blond girl and the dark haired man, “ that’s Rose and that’s Jack.”

            “Hello!” Rose called out, “How’re you and John doing?”

            “We’re fine. John’s in good health,” Sherlock answered slowly, not sure how she knew about John.

            Jack leaned in to Rose and began whispering, “Maybe they haven’t-“ but was cut off when Rose elbowed him quiet. He then turned to Sherlock and gave him a once over. “I see why Torchwood trusted you with this case,” he winked, “if you need _any_ help I, as a Torchwood Captain, would be happy to assist you.”

           Sherlock turned bright pink but managed to say, “I’m not looking for any sort of sexual favors you may be alluding to, but thanks.”

           Kevin had followed Sherlock into the room and was politely introducing himself to the new visitors as well (“I’m Kevin Tran, pleasure to meet you.” “Oh Kevin! Prophet right? I’m the Doctor, great to meet someone as special as you!” “Kevin Tran, nice to meet you.” “I’m Rose Tyler, and it’s nice to meet you too.” “Kevin Tran, pleasure to-“ “The pleasure’s all mine, cute stuff.” “Jack, he’s just a kid!”) before he went over to where Cas was sitting to welcome him home.

          “Cas! Where’ve you been this whole time? Dean was practically driving Sam and me up the wall with how worried over you he was!” Kevin smiled.

          “Hello Kevin, and happy birthday,” Cas replied, turning away from his brother and Dean. He then added in confusion, “I was not aware that Dean could drive up walls with his car.”

          “It’s only a figure of speech, dude. And thanks. I’m surprised you remembered my birthday given all the stuff that’s happened,” Kevin said, genuinely touched.

          “Whoa, wait,” Dean interrupted, giving his attention to Kevin, “It’s your birthday?”

          “Yeah.”

         “And you didn’t tell us?” Sam asked.

         “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing,” Kevin shrugged.

         Dean was a little sad that Kevin thought that way. “Big deal out of nothing? It’s your birthday, man! Of course it’s a big deal.” He got up from his seat and grabbed his car keys, “We hardly ever get a chance to celebrate anything, that’s why this year I was going to make sure the bunker looked great for Christmas, but now we’re definitely going to throw you a party – even if it’s just a cake shared with family and some new friends. How old you turning anyway?”

         “Twenty,” Kevin answered, watching Dean make his way to the door, “You really don’t have to throw me anything, dude.”

         Dean decidedly ignored him and continued on.

         Cas finished his burger and quickly wiped his mouth with a napkin. “I’ll go with you, Dean,” he said, following him.

         “Okay then,” he looked back at Sam, “We’ll be back in about an hour, so maybe make sure all our new friends make nice and know what we’re dealing with.”

         Sam smiled, “All right.” He watched his brother walk out of the room with Cas and turned to Kevin, “I’m glad we’re finally doing something fun around here.”

* * *

 

         “How’d you know today was Kevin’s birthday anyway?” Dean asked as he started up the Impala and Cas buckled himself into his seat.

         Cas pondered that for a moment before responding, “Well I just remembered. December 2nd. Just like I remember Sam’s day of birth is May 2nd and yours is January 24th.”

         “Oh,” Dean whispered, feeling a very light blush dust his features. He’d probably mentioned his birthday once to Cas, in passing, and he still remembered it. It made him feel a little special.

         They drove along for a few minutes in comfortable silence. Dean was glad that he could enjoy this silence with Cas. He was afraid he’d never be able to just hang around with Cas without saying anything again; he’d tried his hardest to not lose hope that Cas would come back but it got harder and harder with each passing day. But now, having him quietly stare out the window with a serene expression on his face, Dean wouldn’t trade the moment for anything in the world.

         “You’re going to love chocolate cake, Cas, just you wait,” Dean promised, taking his eyes off the road to throw Cas a grin.

         “I hope it’s what TV and you have made it out to be, or I’m going to be somewhat disappointed,” Cas commented.

         Dean feigned an expression of hurt, “You don’t trust my judgment?”

         “You haven’t been known to be the trust worthiest Dean, but I think I can trust you when it comes to food given what a glutton you’re known to be,” Cas deadpanned sarcastically.

         “Says the one who didn’t trust us – didn’t trust _me –_ when he turned to Crowley for help against Raphael,” Dean grumbled, eyes back on the road. There were a few seconds of silence before he whipped his gaze back to Cas and exclaimed, “Did you just call me a fatass?”

         “No, all I’m saying is that you are well versed when it comes to food and you know what you’re saying when you affirm something is good,” Cas explained.

         “Uh-huh,” Dean huffed, glare still on Cas.

        Cas leaned over to Dean and put a strong hand beneath his chin. “Dean Winchester,” he said firmly. So firmly that Dean was a little startled from his tone, yet he felt an underlying current of excitement…and hope. Cas turned Dean’s head away from him, “Keep your eyes on the road. I don’t understand how you haven’t had an accident with how often your eyes stray from it.”

        “Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered, trying his best to keep his disappointment at bay. What the hell was he even feeling anyway? Disappointment? About what exactly? He shoved his emotions to the furthest corner of his mind and kept driving.

        They reached the town and began looking for a grocery store, Cas and Dean being unfamiliar with the town due to Cas having only been to the bunker a handful of times and Dean due to Sam always coming in to buy groceries. They found a small bakery – Bodt’s Brownies – downtown, nestled between a men’s clothing store and a beauty salon. They parked across the street right in front of a bookstore. As soon as they climbed out of the Impala, Dean regretted forgetting his jacket – the wind was particularly chilly and was persistently blowing. Cas seemed unperturbed and made his way to the crosswalk.

        “We could just cross here,” Dean called out, “It’d be a lot quicker.”

        Cas responded in his usual monotone, “But that would be jaywalking, Dean, and that’s against the law. Even though you tend to disregard the law at your leisure, I’m not one who so easily undermines authority.”

        “Coming from the mouth of the angel who rebelled,” Dean mumbled, getting in step beside Cas who’d begun to slightly smile and going to the crosswalk. Dean continued mumbling and muttering to himself about different cake and frosting flavors so he didn’t notice when Cas slowed down a bit to look inside the men’s clothing store before he sped up and once again caught up with Dean. Dean held the door open for Cas and quickly ushered him inside the little bakery and out of the cold.

        “It’s very cozy in here,” Cas observed, taking in the little glass cases filled with bakery bread.

        Dean audibly sniffed the air, “God, it smells great!”

        “Hello!” the freckled youth behind the counter beamed, “What can we help you with today?”

        “Oh, um...” Dean stammered, not having expected to be serviced so quickly.

        “We’d like to see your selection of birthday cakes, please,” Cas answered.

        The teenager ruffled through a drawer behind the counter and pulled out a small binder with the picture of an elaborately elegant cake on the cover, “Here we are! These are all our cakes, with their flavors, ingredients and choices of color listed underneath each picture.” He opened up the binder and turned it over to Cas as Dean came closer to the counter to see what choices they had to pick from. “When will you be needing this cake?”

        “Shit, do we have to pre-order?” Dean questioned, already feeling his plans of having a nice celebration for Kevin going down the drain.

        “Not necessarily,” freckles answered, “but some of our more detailed cakes do take a while to make.” He pursed his lips in thought, “Did you have anything in mind?”

        “Well,” Dean began, “I was thinking maybe a chocolate cake with a frosting that’s not too sweet but not too plain.”

        The teenager brought out a small black notebook and began scribbling inside it. “Would buttercream frosting work?”

        “You’re the baker, if you think it fits the bill, then go ahead,” Dean shrugged.

        “Okay,” he began flipping through the small binder as he asked, “about how many people is this supposed to feed?”

        “Nine,” Cas quickly responded. Dean gave him a quizzical sideways glance to which Cas responded with a sheepish, “I was expecting the question to be asked so I’d mentally counted while we drove here.”

        Dean smiled before adding, “Make it 15. People might want seconds.”

       “And trust me, they’ll want them,” a new voice, muffled behind a few boxes, called out as someone came out from the back room. The boxes were set down to reveal another teenage boy, this one with two-toned hair. “This guy makes the best damn sweets in town,” he proudly confirmed, his compliment making the other boy blush a light pink. He came to stand behind freckles and flipped through the binder until he came upon the picture of a two tier cake. “You can make the bottom one chocolate and the top one any other flavor – you know to give it variety.” He then took a seat behind the counter and assembled a pink box before he began lining it with éclairs.

       “Hmm…”Dean mused, already liking the idea. “What flavor do you recommend for the second cake?”

       “Red velvet’s a popular choice,” freckles commented.

       “Then red velvet it is,” Dean grinned, “How long will it take to make?”

       “About two hours, depending on how you’d like it to be decorated,” freckles responded.

      “Just keep it simple,” Dean said.

      Cas quietly added, “But can you write ‘Happy Birthday Kevin’ on the cake, please?”

      “Sure thing,” he smiled, shutting his notebook as he finished taking his notes. He then took out a small paper bag and began to fill it with cookies from the cases. He handed it to Dean, “This is for any inconvenience the time it takes to bake the cake causes you.”

      “How much will it be for the cookies?” Cas asked, already stilling Dean’s wandering fingers.

      “They’re on the house,” the teenager smiled.

      “My favorite type of cookies,” Dean replied, popping a chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.

      The teenager then pointed to the shop across the street, “That bookstore also doubles as a coffee shop. Our friends work there and they have no problem with our customers waiting for their orders to be ready there. You can read a book or buy a cup of coffee and just relax while we get everything ready.”

      “Thank you,” Cas smiled, already walking to the door.

      “Yeah, man, thanks,” Dean mumbled, through a mouthful of cookie.

      “Thank you two for bringing your request to us,” he chimed. “I really hope your son likes the cake!”

      Dean blushed a brilliant crimson and choked on his cookie, coughing and wheezing to get his breath back. Cas quickly came to his side and started patting his back until Dean could adequately draw breath on his own.

      “Hey dude, you okay?” two-toned asked, turning away from his task of filling the box up with éclairs.

      “Y-yeah,” Dean weakly answered. He then turned to freckles and explained, “The cake isn’t for our son, it’s for a friend of ours – he’s turning 20.” He then gestured between Cas and himself, “There isn’t anything – we aren’t – “

      “Oh! I’m so sorry I misunderstood!” freckles apologized, turning a few shades pinker himself after seeing how flustered his assumption had left Dean.

      “It’s okay,” Cas spoke for Dean. “Right, Dean?” He turned piercing blue eyes to Dean to make sure that he was indeed okay and that he hadn’t spoken out for Dean wrongly.

      “Yeah, it’s okay,” Dean confirmed, shooting the teenagers a feeble smile. “Thanks for the cookies. We’ll be at the bookstore till the cake’s ready.”

      They left the cozy bakery and braved the ever cold wind outside until they reached the bookstore. Dean quickly went and bought himself a coffee and a hot chocolate for Cas from the teal-eyed boy manning the cash register whilst Cas got a book recommendation from the other employee at the shop – a short blonde boy who quickly put two books in Cas’s hands and explained that they were their bestsellers and that they might enjoy them while they waited for their orders.

      Cas sat down at the booth across from Dean. “The people in town are very nice,” Cas said, opening his book and beginning to read.

      “No wonder Sam likes to come down to town so often,” Dean mused, accepting the book Cas slid across the table top to him. He didn’t really bother to read the title, opting for just looking at the cover and starting to read. The cover depicted a giant humanoid monster looking over a wall and a city on fire, with a teenager standing with his back to the reader and with weapons hanging from his belt, obviously looking to fight the menace. Dean already liked the kid’s guts, so he immediately began to read.

      Neither of them even glanced up when a girl with a red scarf came and brought them their drinks. They occasionally took sips from them and bites from the cookies and continued reading, engrossed in their own stories until the blonde employee came to tell them that they’d received a call that their cake was ready.

      Dean got up from his seat and thanked the blonde before picking up his book and going to the cashier. “Cas, c’mon, I’ll buy it for you,” he called out.

      “Don’t worry, I got the title,” the teenager replied, not wanting to disrupt Cas’ reading and quickly ringing them up. Dean paid for the books and then they made their way back to the bakery to pick up their cake. However, this time Dean saw the longing glance that Cas gave a particular article of clothing in the men’s shop as they made their way back to the Impala.

      They both stopped and admired it – both lost in different sets of memories that that particular piece of clothing brought to their minds.

      “You miss it, don’t you?” Dean asked.

       Cas nodded, “Even though it wasn’t truly mine, it felt like the only thing I could call my own.”

      “Well then,” Dean said, “Let’s go buy it for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was it? Did you like it? I really hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will probably also be a bit fluffy in the beginning before getting to the hard stuff. I'm sorry there was no John in this chapter but just keep in mind that our...demon is keeping him entertained. Also, can anyone see what I'm referencing with all the characters in town?
> 
> See you next month!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was crazy! I first posted it on my FanFiction.Net account and decided to put it up here. I'll probably upload the next chapter in a month or so since I'm a pretty slow writer. Hope you liked it!


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